


Proper Education

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, College/University Setting, Flirting, M/M, Oneshot, Pre-Slash, Vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 07:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18231833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: “Who thehellhas to take remedial phys-ed their senior year of college?”Shane looks up at Andrew disdainfully. “Fuck off. It's notremedial.”





	Proper Education

**Author's Note:**

> had this idea FOREVER ago and rather than making it some drawn out thing I decided to give it a quick easy wrap up. disclaimer: I have no idea how Real College works nor have I ever taken college level phys ed (aside from like, yoga) and I certainly haven't ever been a college phys ed teacher. this is mostly ridiculous fun.
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing!
> 
> enjoy!

“Who the _hell_ has to take remedial phys-ed their senior year of college?”

Shane looks up at Andrew disdainfully. “It's not _remedial._ Fuck off. ”

“No,” Andrew replies promptly. He slides into the seat across from Shane and keeps his voice low. They _are_ in a library, after all. “Seriously. What the fuck?”

Shane groans and drops his head back into his arms. “There was a problem with the transfer credits from my high school and running start program, so now I’m behind on the phys-ed requirements. And they only _just now_ figured it out.”

Andrew hums. “That sucks.”

Shane lifts his head enough to glare. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Andrew breezes artfully by his sarcasm. “Do you know who with?”

“The only class left open was Endurance Training with uh…” Shane blinks sleepily. “Some… dude.”

“Ah, yes, Endurance Training with Professor Some Dude.” Andrew nods thoughtfully. “You’re gonna die.”

Shane moves his arms and lets his head thud onto the table. “I know,” he says miserably.

Andrew reaches across the table and pats his shoulder. “I’ll toast to your memory.”

 

 

Shane shows up to his first Endurance Training class and immediately wants to leave. One look around the gym tells him the other students are people who take this class because they _want_ to, not because they have to. Shane’s not out of shape, exactly, but he’s not really _in_ shape, either. He shuffles along the wall awkwardly, very deliberately avoiding getting too close to any peers or equipment, until he hits the door with a sign on it.

**_COACH BERGARA’S OFFICE. PLEASE KNOCK._ **

Shane knocks.

“Can I help you?” Someone behind him asks.

Shane turns. “Uh, maybe?” He looks the guy up and down, but mostly down. The dude’s easily six inches shorter than him, and it’s hard not to stare. Shane’s pretty used to being the tallest guy around but something about this stocky man is distracting. His biceps are also bulging unfairly in his tee, which is even _more_ distracting. “I’m looking for Coach Bergara?”

“That’s me.” The man shakes the clipboard at his side.

“What?” Shane blinks. “What?”

“I’m Coach Bergara. You must be Madej.”

Shane can only nod. His words get all tangled up in his mouth—this guy doesn’t look any older than Shane, so the fact that this is his phys-ed teacher for the semester is…unsettling.

“Great. You’re already dressed. Let me do a walk around and check on everyone and then we’ll take you outside.”

“Okay?”

“I want to time you doing some laps, get an idea for your cardio.” Bergara waggles a stopwatch in his other hand. “Do some warm-up stretches.” Then he’s gone, off doing the walk-around while Shane stares after him, slack-jawed.

Slowly, dazedly, Shane shuffles over to an empty corner of the gym. He does some half-hearted stretches that he only vaguely remembers from track in high school. It’s probably not sufficient but he’s not exactly the type to commit that stuff to memory. He’s a history major. The fact that he’s here at all is not only a miracle but a fucking _joke_.

“Ready to go?” Bergara says as he suddenly appears at Shane’s side.

“Sure.” Shane stands up straight from touching his toes and follows the coach outside. The track is empty aside from a couple people lightly jogging and chatting.

“Give me a solid jog. Not a sprint or a walk, just that sweet spot in between.”

“I know what a jog is,” Shane retorts.

Bergara scoffs. “Alright. So show me.”

It turns out that Shane apparently _doesn’t_ know what a jog is, because he’s barely gone a couple yards when Bergara comes yelling after him. It’s not like Shane is horrifically out of shape, or anything; he’s just not some fitness buff, and he doesn’t prioritize exercising as much as he maybe should. He did what he’s always known a jog to be but now his ears are full of the buzzing drone of Bergara lecturing him on posture, his footfalls, his speed.

It’s been going on for a few minutes that feel like centuries when Bergara finally stops and snaps his fingers in front of Shane’s face. “Hey!” He shouts. “Are you listening, Madej?”

Shane blinks. “Honestly, no.”

Bergara’s eyebrows climb his forehead in surprised outrage. “What?”

“Listen,” Shane says. They’re stopped in the middle of the track and some of the other students or athletes around stare at them. “I’m only in this class because my credits got fucked up. I shouldn’t be here. It’s not that I don’t have respect, or whatever for your... _dedication_ to fitness. I just couldn't care less about this class other than passing.”

Shane is surprised Bergara doesn’t look ready to blow a gasket. He’s gaping at Shane, sure. Seems shocked, a little flustered. His mouth keeps moving like he’s going to say something but no words come out. Shane takes the moment to get a better look at Bergara, and decides the guy’s annoying, sure, but he’s pretty cute. Still throws Shane that this guy is a _teacher_ when he looks younger than Shane, but whatever.

An idea strikes Shane as Bergara’s mouth drops open again, silent. It’s an idea born of innate recklessness and the fact Shane hasn’t gotten laid in several months.

“If I suck you off in your office, will you give me a passing grade?” Shane blurts.

Bergara’s face lights up in a blush. “Madej!” He half-shouts, embarrassed.

Shane shrugs, putting on an air of unaffected casualness. “You could fuck me,” he adds, in another spur of madness.

“I don’t sleep with students.”

“Shame,” Shane says.

Bergara still looks shocked, blushing bright, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable. For a split second, Shane is disappointed Bergara said no. He really isn’t bad looking; not Shane’s typical type but not the kind of guy Shane would turn down, if they were in a bar and things were different. While Shane mourns his disappointment, Bergara’s face does a series of complicated acrobatics. It’s pretty fun to watch, actually.

Shane watches as Bergara seems to settle on embarrassed-slash-reproachful.

“I appreciate the offer,” Bergara says, then apparently immediately regrets it if his worsening blush is anything to go by. “But I really can’t.”

Shane shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

Bergara shakes his head, still looking shocked. “I can’t let you coast through this class, either.”

“Figures,” Shane says, disappointed yet again but not surprised.

“But maybe,” Bergara continues. “I won’t work you _as_ hard as I work some of my other students.”

Shane grins. “Alright,” he replies slowly. He can feel there’s more coming.

“And maybe,” Bergara draws it out, teasingly, even if he’s maintaining a cool, calm expression. Even his blush is starting to fade. “If you pass, on your own...maybe we could try a date, at the end of the semester.”

 _Now_ Shane’s surprised. It must show on his face, because Bergara’s opening his mouth and clearly ready to word-vomit his way out of this.

So Shane speaks first, and says, “You got yourself a deal, coach.”

A spark lights up Bergara’s eyes, and his lips twist into a grin. “Give me a jog,” he says again, but Shane could swear it’s almost meant to be _sultry_. The worst part is, it’s kind of doing something for him. “I expect you were listening to my advice.”

“Sure,” Shane lies.

Bergara takes a step back, until he’s at the grassy edge of the track again. He raises an expectant eyebrow at Shane, who takes off in a jog no different than his first. All the while, he can feel Bergara’s eyes burning holes in his back.

 _Maybe_ , he thinks, _this class won’t be so bad after all._


End file.
